


Zap!

by Rosehip



Series: Strange Luck [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosehip/pseuds/Rosehip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ser Bryant and Ser Ethan respond to rumors about magic-using elves in the forest. This is what they find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zap!

**Author's Note:**

> It bothers me that the mages in Origins don't have pasts before the tower. It's like they spawned there. You never run into family, they never remember anything from before ... this bugged me. So, here is part of Macsen Surana's pre-tower life.

“Macsen, you must listen to me.”  
  
Mamae had on her most serious face, her tattoos adding to her fierce look. She stooped to look directly in his eyes. His shoulders hurt where her hands gripped them too tight.  
  
“I'm listening.” His voice quavered, though he tried to hold it steady. The whole clan had split up and been running for days, now. Macsen was tired, scared, and wanted things to be normal.  
  
“If we get separated, go to the big willow at the fork and hide. Don't show yourself to any shemlen. If you get lost, find water and stay there. I will find you as soon as I can, or send someone else. If you get lost and see someone from our clan, it's all right to go to them.”  
  
“Why are the shemlen chasing us? What do they want?”  
  
She shook her head, sadly, wisps of black hair escaping from her braid. “I'm not sure why they came, but I think maybe the farmers who accused us of stealing told them we were bad. We're not bad. I'm not bad, Keeper Nesi'el isn't bad, and you're not bad. They're wrong. Don't ever believe anyone who says there's something wrong with you.”  
  
Her long fingers bit into him. “Mamae, ow!”  
  
“I'm sorry, da'len.” She hugged him, and stroked her fingers through his tangled, brown hair.  
  
Her warnings came rushing to mind. Ever since the static sparks had crackled in the blankets last winter, and he'd gathered them up to play with them, Mamae had warned Macsen over and over that the shemlen would steal him, if they could. “Are they coming to get me?”  
  
“Oh, I pray not. But if they catch you, try to get away. Try as hard as you can.” Her lips brushed the top of his head and dampness trickled down his scalp.

  
###

  
  
Ser Bryant and Ser Ethan had been lost in the woods for days.  
  
Well, not lost, exactly, Bryant corrected his thought. They knew which direction was which, mostly. It's just that whenever they knew which way their quarry had fled, every bramble and fallen log conspired against them. They'd find a way through, eventually- the thorns snagging the skirting of their Templar uniforms mercilessly. By then, they'd be alone and it always took some time to sort out directions, again.  
  
It didn't help that the forest trees grew so thick and so green in this region that the sun could not be seen directly. No roads existed beyond a few deer paths. Both men thought this must have been the source of their recurring confusion. It wasn't as though the trees could be moving around, as they seemed.  
  
Bryant sighed. “All this because a family of elves poached rabbits from a farm. I am not certain I credit their tales of magic. Perhaps it was only a ploy to get us involved.”  
  
Ethan shook his head, his expression obscured by his ever-present visored helm. Ser Bryant was sure he scowled. “The longer this takes, the more convinced I am they spoke truly. A few simple poachers could not have eluded us this well.”  
  
Bryant sighed, breathing deeply in the humid, summer heat. He choked on a gnat. His cough echoed through the woods. A twitter and rustle of wings sounded above them as several birds startled from their perches. “Damn it all,” he said when he could. “I probably just alerted everyone for miles.”  
  
He fell silent, for so had the rest of the forest. The green half-light dimmed. The very air went still, and began to smell much more strongly of earth. “Magic?” Bryant whispered. “Are they preparing an assault?”  
  
Ser Ethan, who was older, and from the country, chuckled. “Depends on who you mean by 'they'. It's early summer, idiot. We'd better find shelter. Those rocky ledges we passed a bit ago might shield our camp some. We have twenty minutes, I'd say.”  
  
They had less than that.  
  
The sky opened up. Rain roared through the leaves, deafening the men to all other sounds and dropping visibility to a few feet. The soft ground rapidly grew slick with wet leaves. Their clothes and gear soaked up every drop and tripled in weight. They ran through the increasingly hazardous forest, eyes low to catch sight of any branches or puddles.  
  
If that hadn't been the case, Bryant never would have seen the small, bare footprints filling with water. He looked up at Ethan but the other man ran several feet to the side, and missed the tracks entirely.  
  
Ethan stopped soon enough and doubled back. He held out his hands in a gesture of confusion.  
  
Bryant pointed at the ground.  
  
Ethan saw right away and took off.  
  
The footprints were spaced such that they were doubtless made by a short person running. The trail faded out when rocks abounded, but reappeared afterward. Their mystery runner must have been deliberately obscuring their prints where possible, then. If that was the case, then they weren't just chasing some poor fool caught out in the rain.  
  
Ethan saw something first. He sped off. Bryant followed, slogging through the underbrush as quickly as he could.  
  
Which wasn't very. The track moved over some of the worst footing in the whole forest. Slippery rocks and logs barred the way the whole time. Bryant trusted Ethan not to lose the track, and moved off it himself to some clearer ground to catch up.  
  
He ran, slipping once or twice, aiming for the safest path heading in the roughly same direction Ethan had gone.  
  
A small figure came charging right for him. He tackled it without a thought thanks to years of training. The young female swallowed a terrified yelp. The heavy bundle she'd been carrying rolled away for several feet.  
  
Flames engulfed him. Bryant shouted his surprise. The rain took care of it soon enough.  
  
A flash of steel- his face stinging with a shallow cut where a blade slipped past the visor. Could have lost an eye. Lucky. No room to draw his sword without hurting her grievously. Ser Bryant punched, his gauntlet cutting across a cheek.  
  
Lightning flashed. The features of a snarling wolf overlay the woman's own, terrified face.  
  
“Madam, stop.” Bryant put all the force he could into his words. “I don't mean to harm you.”  
  
She laughed and kicked out at him. Ice rimed his already cold armor. It burned, but Bryant would not be distracted.  
  
“You must listen. You have magic. I should take you back with me. You can learn more of it! No need to hide in the woods and steal rabbits.”  
  
“Wild rabbits. Shems think they own everything. Well, you don't own me.” She tried to pull out of his strong grip.  
  
“Madam, I cannot-” he gasped as the ground itself knocked him off his feet. Instinct alone allowed him to hold onto the elf and take her down with him.  
  
“Please let me go!” the woman yelled, struggling against him. “I'll leave, swear off rabbits, whatever you want. I can't go with you!”  
  
“I must insist. Do not make this worse. It is the law-”  
  
“Fuck your shemlen laws!” but she sagged, and shifted off him as much as she could, allowing Bryant to stand. “But I'm not strong enough to win against you. I'll go.” She licked at a tendril of blood and rain that ran across her tattooed cheek.  
  
“Did you want to get your things? You dropped something...”  
  
She looked into his eyes. “No, I didn't. I don't have anything important with me. Let's go.”  
  
Indeed she hadn't. Why had he thought so? It must have been a trick of the light with the storm making it hard to see. This woman was entirely alone. It would be a mercy to take her out of this forest, back to civilization, and quickly. The poor thing was half starving and nearly defenseless. He shifted his grip to put an arm around her narrow shoulders.  
  
A shimmer of blue washed over them both, as Ethan called out to him. “Bryant! Blood magic! Snap out of it!”  
  
Bryant looked down at the elf in shock. The protectiveness he'd felt a moment ago washed away. She had become a near feral creature, snarling at him.  
  
A clap of thunder shook the ground. Lightning struck a nearby tree, catching it ablaze. The wood roared as a branch fell.  
  
Only the branch didn't fall. It became an arm, and swiped across Ser Ethan's chest.  
  
More evil magic! Ser Bryant turned again upon the elf beside him, drawing his sword and plunging it into her chest with the same motion.  
  
A shriek cut across the air, but it hadn't come from her. Lightning arced across Bryant's breastplate. He turned away from the dying elf to the direction of the sound and the lightning.  
  
The sight stopped him cold. His sword arm dropped to his side. Electric sparks danced in the tiny hands of an elf child emerging from the bundle of cloth the woman had dropped. The rain plastered dark hair to its face.  
  
Oh, Maker.  
  
“Little help, Bryant!”  
  
He looked towards Ser Ethan. The tree had not gone back to normal with the death of the mage who had awakened it. What kind of magic is that anyway? It had gone wild; throwing wooden spines at Ethan and stomping at him with its roots.  
  
Bryant flew into action. He grabbed up the elf child and wrapped it tightly in the cloth, receiving one more shock for his trouble. He ran it out of the way of the battle, setting it on some raised ground and for the love of the Maker, facing away from the body of its mother.  
  
He ran back to the fray, and joined Ser Ethan in hacking at the wooden monster with his sword. It knocked him into the ground, a root tangled around him. He cut himself free as Ethan leapt onto the thing's back, sword cutting into its trunk/spine. Flames licked across Ethan's armor. Bryant ran headlong into the thing, hacking off a main branch before it could knock him down again.  
  
With a last groan, the thing fell over like so much lightning struck tree. Ethan jumped off its back and rolled out of the way.  
  
“What in the world was that?!” Bryant heard a touch of wonder in his own voice.  
  
Ethan brushed at the mud on his uniform in futility. “I don't know. I haven't seen the like. The elf probably called a demon into the tree. She was definitely a maleficar.”  
  
“About that...” Bryant turned back to where he'd left the child.  
  
It had gone quiet during the battle. Its attention had been elsewhere. It had wriggled out of the wrapping down to its shoulders and freed one arm. It punched uselessly against Bryant's armor when he picked it up.  
  
“She was protecting this,” he continued.  
  
“Ah. A shame.” Ethan sounded sad, from what could be heard across his visor and the storm. “We should drown it.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“Think about it. It's a maleficar's child. Who knows what she taught it. Besides, it would be cruel to leave it on its own. If you kill a she-wolf, you don't leave the pup.”  
  
“It threw some basic lightning at me, but petting the dog in winter is worse than what it managed. It's a mage. We have a duty to bring it back to the circle.”  
  
Ethan sighed, shaking his head. “You also don't keep the pup as a pet. Some have tried, but the wildness stays in them. They never become dogs.”  
  
“If it turns maleficar, they'll know how to deal with it.”  
  
“Fine. I guess we're dragging a screaming elfling along for two weeks. Your problem, Bryant.”  
  
Kinloch hold was easily that far away even if they didn't get lost again. What had he gotten himself into?  
  
The child sobbed. Bryant silently agreed with it.


End file.
